Playground Games and Nuclear Warfare
by JoMiSm
Summary: This is co-written by myself and EleKat! Natasha and Clint are sent on a mission undercover at a school, but the mission, as always, doesn't go as planned. One will be lost, one will be found, and many will be left terrified.
1. Prologue

_**So... hello again, dear readers. In case you haven't noticed, this is CO-WRITTEN! GASP! :D We kind of write every other chapter, and this chapter's mine. The next one will be Elekat's. Also, this does take place in a school, but this is completely UNRELATED to Nattie Turns Teacher. COMPLETELY.**_

_**Pre-Captain America 2. Post Avengers. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers. I can't speak for Elekat. Let me check. Oh. Turns out she doesn't either. **_

* * *

"Romanoff, Barton, report to me." Director Fury's voice interrupted their respective activities, ever demanding. These words that could change destinies and lives were spoken so often, so casually, that Natasha and Clint didn't even think about it as they replied their generic 'yeah, okay, we're on our way' response.

The fact was, this was life for these assassins. Another day, another mission.

Except it wasn't just a mission.

"Deep undercover?" Clint asked, looking over the file. Usually, it was Natasha sent on undercover and him on a roof across the street being hawk-like and providing snarky commentary in her earpiece. Now he was expected to go undercover too? It's not that he couldn't, or that he hadn't, it was just... deep undercover meant no bow. No bow meant sad Clint.

The type of mission wasn't the strange part for Natasha; it was the location. "A school? You want us to be schoolteachers? Around young and impressionable children?" Yes, she'd been there, done that before too, but it was one of her least favorite places to be. Not only could she not have _as many_ weapons on her (the school can't catch them all) but she also couldn't say _many _words and she had to act like a good role model for the kids.

Natasha Romanoff, a good role model.

Fun.

Fury wouldn't take their complaints (which they knew were futile anyway). "This is a very important mission, despite the location." he said. He pulled up a holoscreen, swiping open the digital file and expanding a picture. "This man is Lucas Payne. Not only is he funding projects that build nuclear warheads, there are also rumors that he dabbles in interspatial travel, which worked out _very _well for us the last time we messed with it." Fury said sarcastically.

Natasha was, as usual, ignoring Fury and reading the paper file in her hand, which told her everything that he'd just said and more. "You've had this information since before I joined SHIELD, but he's still on the loose."

Though it wasn't a question, Fury explained. "He was very good at detecting SHIELD agents," Before Natasha could protest, he continued. "_before _you gave SHIELD some valuable tips on going undercover. Now that we have better techniques, I believe that we can capture him."

"Capture?" asked Clint. Again, it'd been a while since they'd done anything but take out the bad guy before bad guy made earth go 'boom.'

"We need him alive. He has information about illegal missile factories all over the world." Fury explained. Natasha was still distracted, reading.

"He... SHIELDies went missing going after him?" Natasha asked.

"That was years ago; they're presumed dead now." Fury said gruffly. There was a moment of silence (as usually happens in SHIELD when talking about fallen comrades) before Natasha spoke again.

"And our covers?"

Fury handed them each their own file. "Learn it, live it, love it. This is officially _you _until you capture Lucas Payne. Dismissed."

* * *

As soon as they were both in an empty room where they could discuss a classified mission, they whipped open the files.

"Oh, nothing much. Laura Matthers, language teacher. Married to you, probably because SHIELD's too cheap to pay for another apartment... Simple history... piece of cake." Natasha murmured, flipping through the file quickly. She looked up at Clint. "What about you?"

"Charles Matthers, your husband." Clint said reluctantly.

"Come on, what's your job?" Natasha prompted.

Clint groaned. "I'm the coach."

Natasha burst out laughing. "Coach Barton." she teased.

"Shut up, Senora Romanoff." Clint grumbled.

"Actually, I'm teaching French." Natasha corrected.

"Well, if we're being accurate, I'm Coach Matthers." Clint replied.

Their banter didn't last for long as the pair had to go and pack their unsuspecting civilian clothes in a very limited amount of time. Despite the laughter and teasing going on beforehand, they both knew that this mission might very well determine the fate of the world.

Yeah. Another day, another mission.

* * *

_**Tah-dah! I hope you enjoyed, and the next chapter will be by Elekat, my dear friend! Please review, and check out Elekat's stories maybe?**_

_**Love,**_

_**JoMiSm **_


	2. Chapter 1

_**Hey guys! So, I'm Elekat (who is not used to spelling her name with a cap at the beginning…) and I am co-writing this story with the lovely JoMiSm! So, I hope you all enjoy!**_

_**This is JoMiSm here: Helloooo! Keep in mind that all the editing (grammar and spelling etc.) is done by me, so if it's imperfect, SORRY. Also, introducing: a new OC! **_

_**I am pretty sure we don't own Avengers so…**_

* * *

Annalise was pretty sure that school could get no more boring. The fact that she, someone who was trained to kill, was stuck being an art teacher to students who believed that her class was just all fun and games and had no real meaning, was pathetic.

Of course, she didn't believe that the art class was pathetic, just the students' opinion of art. She had been dying to get this position and, when it finally came up, she snatched it quickly. It was better than being the _math_ teacher.

Seriously, whoever decided that math was mandatory had no sense of fun whatsoever.

Art was something that Annalise wanted to continue in life when she was younger. She had loved to draw, but, of course, unless you are unbelievably good, it doesn't get you anywhere. Consequentially, she decided upon other things.

Obviously, the profession of killing was dangerous. There was a very high chance that she could be killed or injured and had a feeling that her boss would not be very happy if that happened.

Annalise had started teaching six years ago and had been working for her boss for seven years. She wasn't exactly fond of killing (or teaching) but at least she got paid and had some job security.

"Miss Clark, we still need the budget books for art this year." said the secretary.

"Of course, I will get them to you as soon as possible." Annalise said with a small smile.

She looked over and saw the Spanish teacher and English teacher staring at her and whispering. "I bet she can't even do math for it… no wonder they switched her classes, couldn't teach the students anything…" they whispered, not realizing that she could hear them.

Annalise was amused; that was what came with being the youngest teacher so far at the school. The older teachers making fun of you. Annalise was pretty sure she had things under control, especially a budget and math.

"Miss Clark, I will be coming by your room at lunch." Mr. Mitchell, the science teacher, said. Annalise nodded and walked off.

The bell had rung and she was quickly walking to her class so the students wouldn't wreck anything. "Why did I wear six inch heels?" she muttered to herself as she maneuvered through crowds of the underaged.

Once she walked into her classroom, she knew she should have locked the doors. The students were all being loud and had not grabbed their art like they should have.

"Excuse me." she said, but that didn't work. Sighing, she knew she would have to yell. "Excuse me!" she called louder, hoping that that would work.

Nope. Nothing. Still talking.

She stood up on a chair. This was not something she had intended to do, but this would hopefully work.

"EVERYBODY BE QUIET AND SIT DOWN!" she yelled. Instantly, the classroom was quiet and people were moving to their seats. "Thank you." Calmly, she stepped down onto the floor and smoothed her skirt. She walked to the front of the island that stood at the front of the classroom. (At the front there was the board, an island type thing with drawers for finished art, her desk, the slab maker for clay, and a desk against the wall with a pencil sharpener. At the back were some huge sinks, a bookshelf for clay art, and the paint holder.)

"Now, I would like you all to get out your pencil drawings and start working. Tomorrow is your last day so I want _progress_." Annalise knew progress was something she was not going to get.

Progress was also something that she wasn't getting on her other work. Of course, trying to create the blueprints for a new missile was quite hard when you weren't aware of the mechanics it would need. A drawing was something of the imagination and could be anything and defy the laws of physics, but not a blueprint. That needed to be perfect.

She felt a headache coming into play at the back of her skull and was grateful that these classes were only forty five minutes long. The downside was that this was only her fourth class of the day; she still had four more.

The class erupted in talking again and Annalise groaned. Only five minutes had gone by; this would be the longest forty minutes of class in the history of school.

* * *

By lunch, Annalise had forgotten that Walter Mitchell (AKA, Lucas Payne) had planned to come visit her in the art room. So, with the lights out, she had planned to put her head down for a well-deserved nap… when the door burst open and the lights turned on from the movement.

"Calypso, what are you doing sleeping on the job?" she heard. She looked up with a groan. Annalise Clark's real name was Calypso Bernadette, and Calypso Bernadette had one thing on her mind: that aliases were _annoying_ when you were running on two hours of sleep.

"Well, Mr. Payne, let's see... last night I was up till four in the morning working on blueprints and grading projects. Then, I had to wake up at six in the morning to get ready for this stupid job. So why do _you_ think? For fun?" Calypso was very annoyed now.

"Miss Bernadette, please save your fun for _after_ I've taken over the world." Calypso glared at her boss, Lucas Payne. He was pretending to be the science teacher, and, she had to admit, he was good at science.

"I was being – oh, never mind." She shook her head. "Anyways, what would you like to talk about? And we're taking over the world _together_, remember?"

Lucas rolled his eyes at his young associate, or, as he like to put it, _sidekick_. She was so juvenile sometimes. He had to admit, though, she was pretty.

Calypso had long, light brown hair and side-swept bangs with tan skin and blue eyes. She looked almost like a teenager, not an adult that was twenty-nine years old.

"How are the blueprints coming? When I went to bed, you were working on them." He said, ignoring her last question.

Calypso wanted to yell at him, saying _I GOT NOWHERE AND GOT HARDLY ANY SLEEP!_ but she knew that would only make him angry.

"I didn't get very far." Her assumptions were correct; he was mad.

"And why not?" he spat at her. Before she answered, Calypso grabbed some tissue and wiped his spit off her arm exaggeratedly.

"Well, for one, I have not been sleeping a lot lately, not that you'd care. And another thing," She was really getting worked up. "You aren't giving me enough to work with! I need to know what is going inside it, how big you want it, how much is going in it. The dimensions. These things are _needed _for the calculations for the blueprints!" Calypso glared at her boss. She wanted to take over the world as much as he did. She just needed more logic for this, and he was giving her none.

"I will get it to you! I am still working on it…" Lucas said. Before she could respond, a student walked in. Calypso smiled at the girl, her demeanor going from agitated to friendly instantly.

"Hello, Mary." she said pleasantly, showing no sign of the conversation that she'd just been having.

"Hello, Miss Clark. I was wondering if you could show me how to blend colours?" she asked.

Calypso smiled at the young girl. At least _someone_ wanted to learn something. "Of course, one minute." She said, turning back to the older man. "Do you need anything else, Mr. Mitchell?" she asked.

"No. Thank you for your help, Annalise." He said, walked out, leaving Calypso to go help her student and worry about the stupid blueprints and the authorities that were most likely coming after them.

* * *

_**JoMiSm: Now we've introduced the good, the bad, and the annoying! Time for the show. **_

_**Thanks for reading!**_

_**-Elekat**_


	3. Chapter 2

_**Welcome back! JoMiSm here, and this is my chapter! :D**_

* * *

On the same day but opposite sides of the school, 'Madame Matthers' and 'Coach Matthers' were doing their jobs. Teaching French to semi-lazy students was pretty boring, and they were the type who were still amused by 'oui oui' and looking up stupid words in their books. Being the coach was no better; these students were used to walking laps while playing on their phones, not actual _work _like the new coach was forcing them to do.

"Do you think he was some kind of drill sergeant?" one kid murmured to another between melodramatic gasps for air after they finished running the required amount.

Glancing over at the Coach's intimidating glare, the girl quickly nodded. "Some kind of ex-military, definitely." They had absolutely no clue why he was sitting so far away from the class, but he never once yelled. A wave of the hand, an annoyed glance, and the kids sped up their pace. There was something about this guy that said _you'd better do what I say._

* * *

All parties involved made it to the lunch break, which couldn't come soon enough. Calypso's headache was still there and she was rummaging in the cabinet in the Teacher's Lounge for the Tylenol. Lucas was acting completely unlike himself because he was in the company of other teachers and being polite; Calypso knew that behind that glittering smile was something more sinister. Natasha and Clint were casually chatting among the normal teachers, but they already knew who Lucas Payne was; he still looked exactly like the picture on file. He was so confident in his ability to hide that he hadn't even bothered to change his appearance.

Clint and Natasha had separated themselves, Clint going over to Payne and another male teacher (there were few of them at this school, so they tended to stick together) to try to get closer to him. Natasha stood alone at the microwave, making some little instant meal like the other teachers who didn't eat the school's lunch.

Calypso downed the pills with a few sympathetic looks from other teachers; in this profession, frequent headaches were an occupational hazard. Glancing back up at Payne, she felt a surge of anger: he didn't even notice or care that she was in pain over here. He might be good at fooling the others, but his little act didn't extend to her.

Aggravated, she decided that she wasn't going to go over to him. She was going to go sit with some other teacher today and get away from this man with his fake smiles and impatience just beneath the surface, even if she'd have to go back to doing his work at the end of the day. She looked around briefly and decided that the new, rather lonesome teacher would be a good place to start.

* * *

Natasha looked up when an unknown woman sat down at her table. She was, as far as Natasha knew, completely innocent. "Hello." Natasha said quietly with her half-smile.

"Hey, I'm Annalise Clark." Calypso said, holding out a hand with a friendly smile.

"Laura Matthers." Natasha replied, shaking her hand.

Fake names and fake smiles were all over that teacher's lounge.

"So, you're new here?" Calypso asked.

Natasha nodded. "Yeah, I'm the new French teacher. If I hear 'oui oui' followed by giggles _one more time _today, I'm going to shoot myself."

Calypso laughed. "I know how it feels. Another day with no progress on the pencil sketches, though some students did find it _hilarious _to pretend to be walruses with the Prismacolors."

Now it was Natasha's turn to laugh. The pair didn't have to wait long for the fake smiles to melt away and real ones to take their place; the reason? They weren't acting. Teachers can complain with the best of 'em, and neither of these people signed up for this job, so they had more complaints than the rest. It was nice to find someone who understood.

Now, some of the conversation was faked, like when Natasha told Calypso that she was born in France and came here as a child; she'd been orphaned and raised in an English speaking home, only to learn French to get closer to her past once she was in high school and college. That was entirely made up and part of Natasha's backstory. Calypso had her share of lies too, but some of her past was real. "I'm from Canada, but I moved here later on." she said. It was true; she was actually Canadian.

"Really? Parlez-vous francais?" Natasha asked.

Calypso was quick to get rid of that misconception. "No, no, no. I was that Canadian that took Spanish instead of French back in high school."

When the time had nearly come for the good and the very _friendly_ bad to part ways, it only then came up in conversation that Natasha was 'married.'

"And you're not seeing anyone?" Natasha asked Calypso.

Calypso shook her head. "Free as a bird." she responded. "What about you?"

Natasha held up her left hand, her ring flashing under the too-bright florescent lighting. "Married for four years." Natasha said. "He's the new Coach here; he's right there." Natasha said, pointing over to Clint and the rest of the men by the coffee machine.

Calypso's smile was genuine as she turned to look, but it froze on her face when she saw who the coach was.

It was Clint Barton.

That meant that the woman she'd been talking to this whole time... she was a SHIELD agent.

Everything she'd just been told was a lie.

Most importantly... their cover had been blown.

* * *

_**That bit with the backstory of Calypso being from Canada and not speaking French was from the lovely EleKat, who thought it would be funny, and I agreed with her. You know you thought it was funny ;D**_

_**I would like to say thank you to EVERY reviewer out there. Thank you SO MUCH! This is a really great experience and I'm very glad that you are enjoying this fic and curious to see where it goes! I am as well... say, Elekat, you sure have a heck of a cliffie to work with! **_

_**Love, **_

_**JoMiSm**_


	4. Chapter 3

**Welcome! As JoMiSm said, I, Elekat, am Canadian and I don't speak French. I speak a minimal amount of Spanish (as in I've only been in it for two years but I am not good at languages)**

**We do not own the Avengers sadly!**

* * *

Calypso hadn't been taught to deal with their covers being blown.

The woman who she'd been talking to, she was a SHIELD agent, someone who could not- _would not- _be allowed to know who Calypso was. Clint Barton, also a SHIELD agent. She had seen him before, memorized his face and never forgotten the name. She had been younger, though, around the age of twenty-one. There was no way he knew who she was.

Making sure the smile was still on her face, Calypso turned back to Laura. "Handsome." she said. It wasn't a lie; Barton was handsome. Just… not her type.

"When does the bell ring?" Laura suddenly asked. Calypso was sure this just came with the charade.

"Two minutes, and my class is on the other side of the school! I better get going." Calypso smiled at her before standing up. What was her real name? Who was Laura, really?

"Honey, who's this?" said a familiar male voice just as she turned around.

"Charles, this is Annalise Clark. You teach… art, correct?" Laura asked.

"Yes. College degree, and yet I am teaching in public school." Calypso laughed. At least not everything had to be made up; she did have a degree.

"Charles Matthers, Coach." Barton said, holding out his hand. Calypso placed hers in his cautiously. There was no knowing if he knew who she was. Apparently, he didn't recognize her, because he said nothing about it.

Lucas walked up. She never thought she'd be glad to see his irritating face. "Miss Clark, let me walk you back to class." Lucas said, giving the illusion that Calypso had the choice. She didn't, of course, but nobody needed to be aware of that.

"Of course. Have a nice rest of the day." she said politely to Laura and Barton before walking out. She was trying to figure out who that lady was. Flaming red hair… maybe she had seen her on a screen before.

The artist and her boss walked down the hallway (though, of course, he would consider himself an evil genius and her just the 'pencil drawer'). Nobody paid them any mind, for it was usual to see the at least sixty year old science teacher walking with the youngest teacher in the school.

Once they got into the art room, Lucas closed the door and turned around to look at Calypso. "I need you to pick up groceries on your way home, something for dinner, quick, and drinks. I want to get this missile done soon." he said.

"Come on, Payne, give me a bloody break. I get about two hours sleep between this job and the other. Besides, I can't finish the blue prints without the measurements and weight of the mechanics inside it! I'm not psychic you know." Calypso glared at him before taking a seat.

Her headache was now down to a dull thudding in the back of her skull, but all she wanted to do was go and rest for once, maybe drink a glass of wine and read a book. Of course, taking over the world took priority over _her _mental and physical health.

"And you'll get them, Cal! I need more time." Lucas said with a wave of his hand. "You need a vacation, maybe something in the Carribean?"

"Look, Lucas, I want to take over the world as much as you. Okay? I want SHIELD to fall, and it will happen, just not today." Calypso said as she pulled out her water bottle and took a drink, enjoying the feeling of the lukewarm water running down her throat. She had never realized how hot she was. _Maybe I'm having a hot flash... _she thought. _W__ait, aren't those for old people?_

"On another note," Calypso said, getting away from that train of thought, "I think we should stop talking about this at school. There are students everywhere; someone could hear us."

"That is a great idea; can't believe I thought of it." Lucas said with a huge smile on his face. Calypso rolled her eyes but didn't comment. "Have the night off, Cal. Though, I do want those groceries."

"Sure, sure." Calypso said dismissively. She started to shuffle pictures around on her table. Her next class was twelfth graders, the most calm and serious out of them all. "By the way, Mr. Mitchell," he paused at the door as he was about to walk out, "I want to go to London, not the Carribean." He shook his head and laughed.

"One day my dear, I will buy you your own penthouse in London." He replied before leaving just as the bell rang.

True to his word, after Calypso gave him his meal of ravioli (the kind from a can), he left to his apartment (the one beside hers) and she was left with her Caesar salad and glass of white wine with fruit in it.

She sat down on her plush, black leather couch and started to read her book. She hadn't had a quiet night in a long time... in fact, she didn't remember the last time.

She smiled and looked down at the book. Her niece (one who she only got to talk to barely enough to know a small amount about her) had suggested the book to her aunt (whom she thought was a starving artist). Calypso smiled at the innocent, blue cover and started to read her night away.

In the apartment next door, Lucas was pacing. He knew that his sidekick needed a break, but he wanted to work. The truth was, the reason the mechanics weren't done was because he had not yet hired someone to do that for him. Before, it was his brother doing it, but now he needed someone new because his brother quit to move to California with his new wife.

Lucas was torn. Either he had to do it himself, or hire someone. But hiring someone was tricky, because who knew who was trustworthy?

He sighed and walked over to the window and looked out at the city lights. He knew this would happen, and nothing would get in his (and Calypso's) way.

* * *

She couldn't concentrate. No matter how sad the boy who loved trees's life was, Calypso couldn't shake that face from her mind. Clint Barton didn't know her, but she knew him. Everyone knew him. The great Hawkeye... and he was obviously here to bring them down.

She was smarter, though, and knew all of SHIELD's moves.

"I won't let you bring us down, Barton," she swore as she walked over to view the city lights, all twinkling in the darkness. "Not after all the work I've done to get here." An indescribable glint shone in her blue eyes as she turned from the window.

Of course she recognized Agent Barton. Any SHIELD agent would recognize him.

* * *

**So this is chapter three! I hoped you all liked it!**

**I'd like to thank JoMiSm for editing all my work (on here and on my own stories)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Elekat**


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